


Communication

by Not_You



Series: A Gentleman of Negotiable Virtue [9]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles You Will Be Drunk, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hair, M/M, just kiss him damn you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally someone says something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication

The next few days are unbearable. Charles works from home, writing academic articles and wearing adorable reading glasses and rolling down the hall first thing in the morning all disheveled and sleepy-eyed and Erik is about to go mad. The night before the trial begins he feels like he'll vomit with anxiety, and even then he wants Charles. Now, sitting here in a pearl grey suit and watching Emma make her opening statement, he wonders if he'll explode or shatter first.

All day, Charles is there beside him. Every night after a grueling day in court, Charles is there and offering a drink, a shoulder rub, or a pointless argument to distract him. Anything will do it at this point. Erik does his best not to actually quiver with longing every time Charles touches him, but he's not sure of his success. Being unemployed is starting to get to him as well, but he can't job hunt with this hanging over him and has to settle for pointless lone outings while Charles works, or complaining to Azazel about the ridiculous opera that is his life.

In person or on the phone Azazel exhibits his usual courtesy and lets Erik yammer for a while before turning the conversation to other things. Apparently Hellfire has been going through some changes, most for the better. Shinobi Shaw doesn't know his ass from his elbow, but is sufficiently unlike his father to listen to the staff. He's also apparently gorgeous, and Erik just laughs and tells Azazel not to give it away for free.

"Me? What about you and blue eyes there?"

Erik blushes, and feels like an idiot. "Please, I owe him too much right now. He'd assume I was trying to pay him off."

"Perhaps."

Afterward, Erik paces the halls and wishes he had met Charles any other way. He nearly bumps into Raven as she comes in, the two of them just managing to shift around each other in the wide doorway. She smells like smoke and is carrying a shopping bag, grinning at him.

"Lost in thought?"

"Apparently. And how was your day?"

She tells him all about it, showing him the old jewelry and boots a friend had bequeathed to her and demanding opinions. Laughing and letting her prod him, he reflects on how likeable Raven really is. Perhaps not the most reliable person in the world, but goodhearted and breathtakingly adaptable.

"He really likes you, you know," she says, apropos of nothing.

"What?"

Raven rolls her eyes. "Charles, stupid. He likes you."

"Well, yes, the bail, room, and board did seem to indicate that."

"So why don't you do something about it?"

He stares at her in blank incomprehension and she stares back before burying her face in her hands and muttering for a long time. He's about to ask what's the matter when she raises her head again. "All right. Idiot. Listen closely: Charles likes you for you and as more than a friend. He wishes to god he had met you any other way. If you have no feelings for him but friendly ones, he really needs to know so he can get the shattering part over with and concentrate on putting himself back together."

Erik sputters, stammers, and goes quiet for a long moment. "…You really think he'd be shattered?"

"Totally, but he'd be even _more_ shattered a year later when he figured out that you were with him out of obligation, so don't fucking do that, okay?"

"Okay."

Raven beams at him. "Wonderful." She doesn't threaten to slaughter him if he's lying, but it hangs in the air, friendly-like.

That night, Erik watches Charles and wonders how well his sister knows him. He doesn't precisely seem to be pining, but it's hard to be sure. Charles is the proverbial swan, serene on the surface and chugging like hell beneath. He's always thinking or feeling something, but finding out what it is from moment to moment is a game of its own. Now he's completely enraptured by a documentary on genetics that Erik can barely follow. Not that he minds, because Charles is leaning on him and he will never have enough of his weight and scent. The Carribean-accented words of the scientist currently speaking wash over and past Erik without any meaning as he studies the effects of the warm yellow light of the lamp on just one of Charles's curls, coiling it around his finger.

"Erik?" Charles murmurs.

"Yes?"

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I am appreciating your hair, Charles."

That startles a giggle out of him that Erik wishes he could preserve somehow. "Are you, then."

"It does lovely things with the light. And it curls just so."

"Are you drunk?"

"Only as much as you are, my friend."

"Base prevarication."

"Charles, you do know I like you, right? For yourself?"

Charles looks up, blinking those wide eyes. "You do?"

Erik brushes the backs of his fingers over Charles's cheek, thinking about how badly he wants to kiss him. "I do."


End file.
